


You Know How I Love You More Than Anything

by IndigoFudge



Category: IT (1990), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Adult Eddie Kaspbrak, Angst with a Happy Ending, Broken Bones, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Kissing It Better, Love Confessions, M/M, Major Character Injury, Pain, Post-Canon Fix-It, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Soft Eddie Kaspbrak, Soft Richie Tozier, Whump, internal bleeding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:26:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26112613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndigoFudge/pseuds/IndigoFudge
Summary: Miniseries Eddie doesn't die, and he gets the happy ending that he deserves.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 26
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dennis Christopher and his version of Eddie own my whole entire heart.

When Eddie saw his friends frozen in the trance of the Deadlights, he knew he had to save them - there were no second thoughts. With trembling hands, he held his inhaler out in front of him. "I believe in the Easter Bunny," he said, squinting in the bright light. "I believe in the Tooth Fairy. But I don't believe in you."

Fear rose in him. He didn't even hesitate.

"This," he panted, "is battery acid. Now you disappear." Looking away, he triggered the inhaler over and over again, hoping beyond hope that it would make a difference.

But It didn't seem fazed. It just closed Its awful claws around his midsection, lifting him up. Eddie yelled as he felt It begin to crush him. His heartbeat sped up. Would this be his fate? Would he be squeezed to death by the claws of a demonic clown-spider? He fought against It to no avail. From the corner of his eye, he could see Bev running to a different part of the cavern, but then Its grip got tighter and Eddie's vision got fuzzy.

His life flashed before him. After moving out of Derry, he was never really happy. He was stuck in a suffocating life with his mother. Hell, he didn't even have a wife. 

Come to think of it, he'd never really loved any woman.

The closest thing he'd ever felt to love was whenever Richie would hug him, tousle his hair, or tell bad jokes. In fact, he might even say that he loved Richie. _Hm,_ Eddie thought. _That's an interesting revelation to make when all of my bones are being broken and I'm probably going to die. I'm... gay. I'm gay and in love with Richie. Again, not the best time to realize this, but it's a start._

He could barely hear over the sound of his own screaming, but there was the faint sound of footsteps. Eddie had just enough time to hope that it was Bev before It dropped him, and then he was falling.

It couldn't have been holding him _that_ high up, could It? After all, the cave ceiling was only so tall. But it felt like he was falling for a lot longer than a half a second, as if he was thirty or forty feet off the ground. _Some more of Its magic_ , he guessed, a split second before he hit a cropping of rock and rolled off of it onto the stony floor. Turning over onto his back hurt more than all of the pain he'd ever felt in his entire life. He groaned, unable to feel his legs.

Through a haze of tears, he saw Richie, Ben, and Bill snap out of the trance of the Deadlights and catch sight of him. Bev knelt down first and held his hand, followed closely by Richie.

"Eddie!" Richie exclaimed, cradling Eddie's head in his lap. "Are you hurt?" He stared with wide eyes, afraid of what the answer would be.

"Nothing some good old Band-Aids can't fix," Eddie lied. Best not to have Richie - or any of the others - worrying. But he could see that they still were.

Ben and Bill got down on their knees and put their hands on his arm. Ben looked terrified, speechless. Bill was in disbelief.

“Hey, nice shot, Bev,” said Eddie. Every breath made his chest burn and ache. Tears welled up in his eyes. At least he wouldn't have to die while being held by It. At least this way he could die with his friends around him, which was a lot less scary. "You really showed It who's boss."

Richie piped up. “Shh, don’t you talk, don't you talk. You’re gonna be fine, Spaghetti Man.” Richie placed Eddie’s glasses back on his face. His other hand carded softly through Eddie’s hair, which oddly helped comfort him from the pain.

Eddie looked Richie in the eye. “Richie, please,” he whispered. “For the last time, don’t call me that.” He tried to laugh, but it caused an explosion of pain in his upper chest. Broken ribs, most likely; the fragments of which had probably pierced his lungs. That's how it happened with falls of that height. That's what killed you. “You know how I...”

He stopped, thinking, trying to find the right words. At the back of his throat, he tasted blood.

Slowly, he moved his gaze to each of the other Losers in turn. Bev was brushing her thumb over the back of his hand. Ben’s lips were parted as he looked at Eddie helplessly. Bill’s eyes were filled with tears. Eddie loved all of them, yes, but he _loved_ Richie, loved him in a different way. 

He swallowed back the blood in his throat, looking back up at Richie. “I loved it when you called me Eddie Spaghetti,” he admitted, breathing as shallowly as possible in order to keep his pain levels low. With his free hand, he reached up and touched Richie’s cheek. Richie was crying.

He held Eddie’s hand to his face. “ _Love_ , not _loved,_ ” he corrected. “What's with the past tense? You’re still alive.”

“Not for much longer,” breathed Eddie. “That’s why I need to tell you one more thing.” He paused to gather his courage and wait for the pain to subside. Several seconds passed before it was down to manageable levels.

“What is it, Eddie?” Richie leaned closer.

A tear ran down Eddie’s cheek. _This is it,_ he thought. _The end of the line._ “I love you.”

Ben let out a choked breath, and Bev squeezed Eddie’s hand. Bill bowed his head. They all waited for Richie to speak, Eddie included. His heart was in his throat. What if Richie stood up, ran away, and never came back? What if he left Eddie for good?

Richie didn't do either of those things. Instead, he said “Wow, I- I didn’t think you’d say that. Ever." And then, even more unbelievable: "But now that you did... can I kiss you?”

Eddie's face lit up. He nodded. This was more than he hoped for. This was the perfect way to go.

Richie closed the rest of the distance and carefully supported Eddie’s head as their lips met. It was indeed perfect. (Except for the part about Eddie being nearly dead. That could have been better.)

Shaking like a leaf, Eddie finally broke away. His brows knitted together as he tried not to scream again. Pain throbbed violently in every part of his body, but mostly his chest.

Richie’s smile fell. “Are you okay? Come on, stay with me here.”

Eddie gasped slightly, blood catching in his throat. He pressed his head into Richie’s elbow, taking painful breaths.

“Now Eddie, don’t you dare die on me,” Richie pled. “You have to keep your eyes open. I need you.” He gently stroked the side of Eddie’s face.

Eddie latched onto that feeling, taking comfort in it even though he was freezing cold and it was impossible to breathe. He tried to say “I love you” again, but coughed instead, which made him cry out in pain. Black crept in on the edges of his vision. He didn't want to die, of course he didn't. Just because his friends were there didn't mean he wasn't allowed to be sad. _Oh. Oh, it_ hurts _._ He focused on the sensation of Richie touching his face. Everything else fell away. Soon there were no sounds, no sights, nothing. Eddie sighed, a long ragged exhale, and then that was it. 

* * *

“Eddie!” Bev cried. But she was too late. Eddie's eyes had gone glassy and unfocused, and his chest had stilled. He stared up at the ceiling.

Richie looked from Eddie’s body, to Bill, and then back to Eddie. He was absolutely broken. “Okay, Spaghetti Man, it’s not funny anymore,” he said, his voice breaking. “You can talk now.” Obviously Eddie couldn't be dead. They'd been friends forever, there was no way that could just be taken away so easily.

Ben shook his head, glancing sadly at Bill. “Richie, he’s gone.”

“No, he’s not,” insisted Richie. “He just got hurt. We have to wake him up. Hear that, Eddie? It’s not safe to pass out when you’re injured like this! You gotta wake up so we can take you to the hospital! They'll fix you up.” How could it be that his Eddie Spaghetti was dead forever? He refused to believe it.

Bev sobbed quietly. She placed a hand on Richie’s back. “He doesn’t have a pulse, Richie,” she said.

“Yes he does!” Richie put two fingers on Eddie’s neck, but his own heart was beating so fast he couldn't tell, so he beckoned for Bev to do the same.

Her face quickly changed from sadness to shock as she felt an unsteady beat. “Oh, my God,” she said. “He’s right! Eddie’s alive!”

Bill broke down, burying his face in Eddie’s jacket. “Thank G-g-god,” he stammered.

Everyone stood up, except for Richie, who remained seated with Eddie's head still in his lap.

“I’m staying right here,” Richie said. “Right next to him. You all can go kick Its ass by yourselves, but I’m not leaving him. He needs me.” Fresh tears sprung to Richie's eyes as he looked into Eddie's unseeing ones. 

“Okay, Richie,” said Ben, clapping Richie on the shoulder, his hand lingering there for a couple seconds. "Be safe. We’ll be right back.”

They disappeared into a further part of the cave, and Richie placed his hands on either side of Eddie’s face, holding his head straight. “You see, Eddie? They’ll be right on back. You just focus on breathing, okay?”

Eddie gave no response but for a slight twitch of his mouth.

“When we get out, you and I can have a big house, just for the two of us,” Richie said, lightly. “It’ll be so big that we’ll need a maid. We can have a grand old bedroom, with a gold poster bed, and so many blankets for when it gets cold at night. I don’t know how good you are at cooking, but I know how to make a few things. I’ll bake you pancakes every Sunday morning. Or every morning, if you want. I don't know how much you like pancakes. I personally am a fan of the chocolate chip ones. You're never too old for some chocolate, that's what I like to say.” He looked expectantly at Eddie as if Eddie would suddenly chime in, but no such thing happened.

"Ah, good choice! Stay quiet so you don't interrupt my routine! Very respectful of you, Eddie. Oh! You'd make a good comedian yourself, you know. Or even an actor! I’ll star in every blockbuster, and you can be my costar. The wonderful Eddie Kaspbrak. You were born to be in the spotlight - I mean, just look at your beautiful face!” Richie couldn't bring himself to laugh. What if Eddie died right here, and Richie would never be able to see his beautiful face again?

He sat and held Eddie for a while, humming a tune that he made up in his head as he went along. _Maybe wherever Eddie's mind is right now, he can hear it_ , thought Richie. _Maybe he can hear me._

Just as the others returned, Richie whispered an "I love you" into Eddie's ear, and then he straightened up. "Did you kill It? For _good_?"

"I think so," Bill said. "Is Eddie... still okay?"

"Well, 'okay' is a relative term, Billy Boy," said Richie, voice straining as Ben helped him sling Eddie over his shoulders. "But yes, he's still with us." He used his right hand to hold Eddie’s neck in order to keep it still; this also allowed him to feel his pulse and make sure it didn’t stop. _If it stops,_ Richie thought, _I think I'll die right here and now._

They got to the car, and Eddie's pulse hadn’t stopped yet. Richie laid him down in the backseat with Ben’s jacket rolled up under his head. Then he reached back and held his hand, even if Eddie couldn’t hold it back. "You're doing just fine, Spaghetti Man," he called, over the engine starting. "Just hold tight. We're on our way to the hospital right now." As Bev drove, Richie kept humming his made-up tune, hoping that in some way it could bring Eddie comfort.

When they finally made it to the hospital, Eddie’s pulse was so weak that the Losers could barely feel it. Bill and Ben checked him in while Bev found a parking spot. They told the doctors that a ceiling collapsed while Eddie was remodeling and he got crushed; the doctors seemed to find that believable enough. 

Hours passed before Eddie got out of surgery and Richie was allowed to go back and see him. He held Eddie’s hand and kissed it, weeping and needing to use a tissue to dry his tears. “I know you can’t hear me right now because you’re off on cloud nine,” Richie said, “but I just wanted to let you know I’m right next to the bed, so whenever you want to wake up I'll be waiting.”

Eddie squeezed his hand.


	2. Chapter 2

Flashes of consciousness. Blurry figures. Eddie caught a few words now and then, too. But mostly he was out cold.

 _Please notice I'm still alive,_ he thought. _Richie, please tell them._

He felt Bev's fingers at his neck, checking for a pulse. He felt Richie's hands on either side of his face. He heard Richie's voice cut through the fog: "You just focus on breathing, okay?"

Eddie wanted to smile, to put on a brave face, but found he couldn't really move his mouth. _I'm trying, Richie._ Because he was. He put all of his energy into taking one breath after another, even though it agitated his shattered ribs. The pain was overwhelming, crushing him. He managed to look up, just a little bit, enough to catch a glimpse of Richie's worried expression. _Don't worry, Richie,_ he wanted to say. _I'm breathing. I'll be okay._

Wouldn't he?

He was fairly certain that he'd live. After all, he wasn't dead yet, and that had to mean something. Sure it hurt to breathe, but people survived broken ribs all the time. Well. Not if the broken ribs came along with punctured lungs and other internal damage. 

Eddie tried not to think about that.

He listened to Richie's voice, only able to make out about a quarter of the words. "...Two of us," Richie was saying. "...Bake you pancakes... never too old for some chocolate."

Why hadn't Eddie paid more attention sooner? Why hadn't he figured out his feelings as a kid? It would have saved so much time. They would have been happy together. In fact, he may not have even gotten hurt. 

"...Beautiful face," said Richie. And then he hummed some song. Eddie had never heard it before, but it was soothing. He glanced up at Richie's face again. 

_This is the man I love,_ Eddie thought. Warmth blossomed inside of him. That was not a good sign, he knew. If you were hypothermic, you would get very cold, and then you would all of a sudden get inexplicably warm right before you died. He was clearly hypothermic. He was clearly dying.

Richie was talking again, saying something right in Eddie's ear: "I love you."

 _Oh, that's sweet,_ thought Eddie. _At least if I die, he'll have-_

His train of thought was torn away from him swiftly. It felt like a dam had been broken, allowing more pain than before to flood through his body. Ben was helping to hoist him up over Richie's shoulders in a sort of fireman's carry. 

_Put me down!_ he wanted to yell. _Put me down this instant! It's not safe to move someone with a spinal injury. That's what I probably have, you know - a spinal injury._ The pain was making him frustrated, frustrated that he couldn't move his body or even speak. He knew at some level that carrying him like this was their only option; otherwise they would have had to abandon him in the tunnels. But God, it hurt so badly. His stomach and chest burned fiercely. He would have gritted his teeth if he'd had the strength.

Eddie felt a hand, Richie's hand, holding his head steady, which made him a bit less angry. It still sent pain hammering into every part of his body with each step Richie took, though, and frankly it was miserable. Tears swam in his eyes, making things even more smudgy than they already were. Should he have just died? Wasn't he supposed to be dead? You could only survive so long with a punctured lung. Add internal bleeding on top of that, and your outlook was not good, not good at all. 

From the angle at which Richie was holding him, everything was upside down. Eddie wanted to close his eyes but found he could not even do that. Ah, he felt so ill, and it only worsened when Richie stepped outside and cold air hit them all. Sweat beaded on his forehead and dripped to his hairline. He knew that he would not survive if he was not taken to a hospital immediately, but it was as if he didn't have the energy to care. He felt himself be gently placed down in the back of a car, something soft under his head and someone holding his hand. Eddie didn't even need to look in order to know it was Richie. For that he was grateful. 

Richie began humming the same tune as before. "...Spaghetti Man," he said, loud enough for Eddie to hear over the roaring sound of the car. "Just hold tight... hospital..." 

These were just snatches of the whole conversation, of course, but it didn't fail to make Eddie at peace. At that moment he wished he could hold Richie's hand forever, listening to him hum that idyllic song. Not if it meant that Eddie would still be dying, though. That part he'd had enough of.

He wasn't aware of most of the car ride; he'd begun passing out for longer and longer sections of time. Fortunately, he was unconscious as Richie carried him into the hospital. Eddie woke up for several seconds as he was being put on a stretcher, and then a mask was placed over his mouth and he fell into blissful sleep.

* * *

It was God-only-knows-how-many hours later when he awoke slowly. At first he couldn't even open his eyes, and it elicited panic until he finally gathered the strength to flutter his eyelids. He had to squint in the harsh hospital light.

 _Hospital. I'm in the hospital._ And then, when the reality of that finally hit him: _They got me to a hospital! I'm safe!_

There was someone else in the room with him, sitting in the chair by the bed. Eddie recognized the voice. It was Richie, and he was crying. Eddie squeezed Richie's hand, noting the low pain he felt in his bones as he did so.

"Hi," he tried to say, but his throat was so dry that all that came out was a rasp. 

"Eddie!" Richie said. "Oh, you're awake! Here." He let go of Eddie's hand briefly to pour a cup of water from the small machine in the hall, and then returned. "Drink this. It's magic."

Eddie attempted to reach his arm up and grab the water, but even the smallest movement was accompanied by a dull aching pain. He let out a small gasp, wincing, and looked down at his body.

Bandages were wrapped around his midsection and both arms. He couldn't see under the blanket, but from the feel of it they were on his legs too. This made him strangely calm - it reassured him that the doctors were thorough and likely didn't miss any injuries - though damn, it hurt. He didn't know how long it would take him to recover from this. He'd definitely need weeks of physical therapy, at the least. Probably more surgeries. 

Richie ruffled Eddie's hair with his free hand. "Yeah, Spaghetti Man, It really did a number on you. Luckily the doctors patched you up real nice." Carefully, he lifted the cup to Eddie's lips, helping him drink.

The water _did_ taste like magic. Eddie downed it within seconds. His throat was still a little dry, but he didn't want to burden Richie by asking for a refill, so he paid it no mind. "Hi," he said. Now he felt like crying too, if only because he was alive and here with Richie. They'd won. "Richie, I- I just wanted to thank you. You didn't give up on me. Even when they all thought I was dead."

"I know you, Eddie," Richie said, pointing at his own eyes and then at Eddie's. "I could tell you weren't dead just yet. You were hanging on for me, weren't you?"

Eddie smiled, blushing. "A little bit." His smile broke out into a full grin. "You know, I was listening to you. I heard that song. It went kind of like..." He hummed a little bit of the melody, as much as he could remember.

Richie teared up again, looking flattered and a bit surprised. "I made that up just for you." 

"Well, I liked it," said Eddie. He tried moving his hand again. This time he was able to curl his fingers into a fist and re-extend them without feeling like his arm was on fire. It still hurt, but not nearly as much as before, or maybe he was just increasing his pain tolerance. "And I like you, you know that, right Richie?" He nervously met Richie's eyes. _What if everything from before was a pain-induced hallucination?_ he thought. _Richie's famous. Richie's exciting. There's not a chance he would love someone like me, who still lives with his mother._

But Richie's response was quite the contrary. "Yes, I know, and I like you too." He found Eddie's hand, lying palm-up on the blanket, and traced the lines with his finger. "In fact, I love you. I meant all the things I said down there, each and every word."

Eddie was about to say "So did I," but a tickle in his throat gave him pause. _Oh no,_ he thought. _Oh please no._ He tried his best to ignore it, to keep breathing, but a cough burst out of him anyway - bringing with it a searing pain. Eddie cried out, pressing his back against the pillows. He was vaguely aware of Richie jumping up, touching his hair, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

"Now hang on," Richie said. His voice was remarkably soft, even though his eyes were filled with terror. "I'm right here. Just stay with me, that's it." 

Eddie's quick breaths returned to normal; his vision cleared. Miraculously, the pain faded. He realized that his cheeks were wet. "Ow," he breathed, laughing a little through his tears. "No more coughing from now on."

Richie pretended like he was going to punch Eddie in the arm, but stopped at the last second, settling for a gentle kiss on the lips instead. "That's exactly right. But even if you do, I'll be here. So you let me know if anything is hurting, you got that? Then I can kiss it better." 

"Yeah," said Eddie. He felt completely peaceful for the first time in years, and he knew that Richie was truly the one meant to be by his side. "I got that."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for some slight past internalized homophobia. Also, Eddie does a lot of thinking in detail about his injuries/complications in this chapter, so that may be triggering.

Bruising, nerve damage, broken bones, kidney failure. With each word that left the nurse's mouth, Eddie grew more and more anxious. He felt his throat start to constrict and his lungs start to- _no,_ he didn't have asthma, he had to remind himself. Just anxiety. 

(And bruising, nerve damage, broken bones, and kidney failure.)

Eddie was good, he was smart, he ate healthy and went on walks and took his medication and washed his hands. He lived with his Ma and followed all of her rules. He never broke the law. He went to work on time and made sure to drive safely. He didn't do anything to ever put himself in danger, except just this once. Just this once he was brave. And he paid the price - now he was stuck in a hospital bed while the nurse rattled off the long list of things that were wrong with him. 

_Wrong._ Eddie hated that word. Being gay was _wrong_ , liking Richie was _wrong_ , throwing yourself in front of your friends and putting your life on the line to save them from a giant spider was _wrong._ Except it wasn't. None of those things were _wrong_ , Eddie knew that now. He knew because he could feel the sense of rightness that sat deep inside him whenever Richie held his hand. He knew because as much as he hated the pain and the bandages, it would have been worse to have just let Richie die instead. What kind of a friend would he be then?

It was worth the pain. It was worth everything. Even though it was terrifying to have rheumatologists and nephrologists and internal medicine doctors and orthopedic surgeons and what seemed like an infinite number of specialists constantly coming in and out of Eddie's room, it was worth it. All of the injuries were worth it.

The bruising wasn't that bad. Most of it was covered up by the casts and bandages anyway. His hands were splotched with purple, and so were his feet, but Richie brought in some socks for him pretty quickly. The broken bones were a pain because the casts were clunky and inconvenient. And it _hurt,_ so badly that he'd have to take more medication just to deal with the aching and then he'd be loopy for a couple hours. He didn't like being loopy; he liked being coherent so he could talk to Richie. 

Mostly, Eddie was scared by two things: the nerve damage and the kidney failure.

Yes, yes. He was in a hospital, they'd take care of him, he understood that. But still. No one liked being told that they had acute kidney failure and needed to take diuretics, especially not Eddie Kaspbrak. He'd read enough medical stuff in college - back when he thought he might become a doctor - to know the symptoms. Weakness, hand tremors, metallic taste in your mouth. The hand tremors were the worst part by far. His right arm was broken, so it hurt to move his fingers. He tried his best to keep his hand still, but the only thing that really worked was to have Richie gently hold it. 

The nerve damage was scary too. It gave Eddie near constant pain, more so than any of his broken bones. He hadn't read up a lot on nerve damage specifically in college, but he knew that it never really went away. He'd have this for the rest of his life. The thought overwhelmed him. 

"You doing okay, Spaghetti Man?" Richie asked from his seat right next to Eddie's hospital bed. 

Eddie sighed. "I've been better." Which was actually quite far from the truth. He hadn't felt this fine in years. Of course he'd prefer if he wasn't in the hospital, but Richie was here, so it wasn't all bad. Having someone by his side was new to him - he hadn't really had friends before, mostly just coworkers. There was Sam, and Gordon, both in higher positions than Eddie but at least they were nice. Sam had taken Eddie out to lunch one time. He'd offered Eddie a cigarette and wasn't too offended when Eddie declined. And Gordon had often made jokes - ones that were inappropriate for the workplace, so Eddie should have hated them, it was just... it was different when they came out of Gordon's mouth. He had a mustache and reddish hair and _oh._ Well, that explained a lot. No wonder Eddie liked him so much. "I'm doing a lot of thinking."

"Be careful, you wouldn't want to wear out that brain of yours," said Richie, gently knocking on Eddie's head. "But I bet there's never been a better thought thunk than in your thinker."

"That doesn't make any sense." Eddie laughed; his ribs burned and he stopped. "Ah, sorry. It hurts to laugh. It hurts to breathe, too. Huh. I've never had broken ribs before." _Broken._ His ribs were definitely more than _broken_ , they were _shattered._ When they eventually healed, they would probably be permanently twisted. He'd never be the same. What if his legs healed wrong, too? What if he'd never walk again? Some people could live in a wheelchair and be well and good, but Eddie Kaspbrak could not. Eddie Kaspbrak had so much anxiety stuffed into his small frame that he wouldn't be able to handle using a wheelchair. Every time he'd glance at it, he would be reminded of It. Of almost dying. "You figure I'll ever be able to walk on my own after this?"

Richie tucked a stray strand of Eddie's hair behind his ear. "I don't see why not. You'll be up and about in no time."

"Thanks, Richie," said Eddie. He could tell that Richie didn't truly believe that, but it was the thought that counted. "Thanks for carrying me out of there, too." A lump rose in his throat. 

"Oh-" Richie dismissively waved a hand, tears shining in his eyes. "You don't- you don't have to do that, Eddie. Thank me, I mean. I was just doing what any of us would have done. Nothing special. Nothing brave. _You're_ the brave one, mister."

Eddie smiled. Richie's voice was comforting; it was almost lulling him to sleep. He felt Richie reach up and start to pet his hair. "I am?" he murmured. His eyelids drooped.

"One hundred percent! You showed that clown not to mess with Eddie Kaspbrak. It hurt you and then ran away with Its tail between Its legs," said Richie. "You know, I... I'm alive because of you. Beverly told me what happened. She told me that Ben and Big Bill and I were in those Deadlights together, and... you saved us. It was all you, Eddie Spaghetti. You're the bravest man I've ever met."

"Bravest man you've ever met," Eddie said. "I like the sound of that."

And then he fell asleep.

* * *

Eddie dreamed of death. He dreamed of being crushed into oblivion by thousands of claws. He dreamed of falling a hundred feet to the ground and shattering every bone in his body upon landing. He dreamed of Richie cradling him. He dreamed of blood spilling from his mouth and the light leaving his eyes. He dreamed of pain and darkness and being left inside that horrible cave.

He woke up to Richie touching his cheek. "Shh, Spaghetti, shh. It's only a bad dream. I've got you."

"Richie," breathed Eddie, leaning his head into Richie's palm. "Everything hurts." His abdomen throbbed with pain and he grimaced.

" _We need a nurse in here!"_ Richie shouted over his shoulder. Then he turned back to Eddie. "That should take care of that. Is there any way I can help?" He moved his free hand up to Eddie's head and began gently raking fingers through his hair.

Eddie felt tears gather in his eyes. "Nothing that you aren't already doing," he said. To know that people cared - to know that _Richie_ cared - made his heart ache. Although Sam and Gordon were friendly, Eddie knew now that they didn't particularly like him any more than they liked anybody else at work. They would certainly have never stayed in a hospital with him if he'd gotten injured. Maybe Gordon would have sent a card and dropped it off with a smile, but that was the extent of their relationship. Coworkers. Acquaintances. Nothing more.

Eddie's only _real_ friends were the Losers.

A nurse came rushing in; Richie directed him to heighten the dose of Eddie's pain medication. 

"Everyone else," Eddie said carefully. He swallowed. "Where are they?"

"Oh! They've been in to see you, don't you worry. But so far you've seemed to only want to wake up for _me._ " Richie winked. 

Eddie kissed Richie's arm. As the medication started to take hold, his pain ebbed away. "Well, I do love you," he said, grinning softly. "Can I see them? Can you bring them all in, please? I want to say thank you." The tears spilled down his cheeks. He remembered how delicately Beverly had brushed her fingers over his knuckles as he was lying on the ground. He remembered how heartbroken Bill's expression had been. He remembered how Ben had placed a gentle hand on his arm.

Beverly walked through the door first, followed quickly by Bill and Ben together. She gasped when she saw Eddie. "Oh, Eddie!" she cried, running to his bed and giving him a kiss on the temple. "We were all so worried."

"I'm okay, all things considered." Eddie let Bill take his hand. "How'd you get here so quickly?"

Beverly's eyebrows knitted together. "We haven't left. With you, a-and with Mike... we've stayed the whole time. Ben went out once last night to bring us some food, but that's it. Why _wouldn't_ we have stayed?"

"Because... because it has to be awfully uncomfortable sleeping here. I just didn't think I was..." _Worth it_ , Eddie thought. _I didn't think I was worth it._ "Are you sure you're alright? You look tired. And Mike! How is he?"

"We're okay," said Ben. "Mike's doing well, too. The sleeping isn't so bad once you get used to it. We're your friends. We'd never leave you." He stood at the foot of the bed and rubbed Eddie's leg in a soothing gesture.

The increased medication was making Eddie drowsy. He bit back a yawn. "Thank you, all of you," he said. "I'm going to sleep for a little bit, if that's okay. Can you be here when I wake up?"

"Absolutely." Bill gave his hand a careful squeeze. 

Eddie drifted off feeling safer and more loved than he'd ever felt in his life.


End file.
